


Eros' Folly

by RenkonNairu



Category: DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Superboy (Comics)
Genre: Abandonment, Abandonment Issues, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Child Abandonment, Day 5, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Melodrama, Soulmates, Tim/Kon Week, Tim/Kon Week 2020, unwanted soulmate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:33:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24175900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenkonNairu/pseuds/RenkonNairu
Summary: Conner Luthor did not want to run the risk of finding his soulmate ...his soulmate finds him anyway.
Relationships: Clark Kent & Kon-El | Conner Kent, Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent/Lex Luthor (past), Kon-El | Conner Kent & Lex Luthor, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent
Comments: 48
Kudos: 228
Collections: TimKon Week





	1. Across a Crowded Room

Conner Luthor did not date. 

He was determined. 

No dating. No meeting new people. No mingling. Lex even had to twist his arm to get him to attend company social functions –social functions for the company that he would be inheriting one day- or charity events –events that improved public opinion of them and by extension raised stock prices for the company. 

Conner had a reason for this. It was a simple one. 

He did not want to run the risk of finding his soulmate, or thinking he had found his soulmate and having that presumed soulmate decide they were not as connected as he thought they were and leave him. 

That sounded like an absurd fear. His soulmate just up and deciding they weren’t soulmates anymore and leaving him. Something like that shouldn’t be possible. Soulmates were soul bonded, the ephemeral souls of two (or more) individuals mated together by a connection that transcended the physical. There wasn’t a precedent for soulmates leaving. 

Except there was a precedent. 

A precedent set by Conner’s own parents. 

Lex and Clark knew each other since they were teens. They had the classic soulmates’ story. Lex was in Smallville on the day of the meteor shower that brought Clark to Earth in the first place. When they met in high school, there was an instant energy between them. They went through countless misadventures together. They seemed like they would be together forever. They even had Conner together. Everything seemed perfect. They were soulmates. How could they not be?

Then Clark met Bruce Wayne. 

Or, more accurately, Superman met Batman. 

Suddenly, Clark didn’t think Lex was his soulmate anymore. Suddenly, he felt it might be Batman, and Batman felt the same. 

It was a mess. On all accounts, it was a mess. An emotional mess. A financial mess –divorce wasn’t cheap and there were major international corporations involved, Lex did not make Clark sign a prenup before their marriage. It was a logistical mess. And the identities! Clark Kent-Luthor suddenly remarrying billionaire Gothamite Bruce Wayne, on the heels of his divorce from Lex Luthor! 

Conner didn’t remember much of it. He was just a little too young at the time. He just remembered being very confused through most of it. Confused, and angry. Very, very angry. 

He remembered Clark hugging him good bye, and they were both crying because Clark was not taking Conner with him. Conner asked him why he was leaving and begged him not to go, or to take him with. Clark did not. He abandoned Conner when he abandoned Lex. 

Now Clark was living happily with Bruce Wayne. 

Clark Kent-Wayne, pet-husband to Bruce Wayne, and Gotham socialite that sometimes wrote cute little think-pieces for the Gotham Gazette by day. Superman, Man of Steel, and hero of Metropolis by… also day. He had his own life. He even had a new son to replace Conner. Jon Kent-Wayne. He didn’t need Conner. 

That was fine. 

Conner didn’t need him either. 

But because of the experience, Conner was also determined never to meet anyone he might think was his soulmate. 

He did not want to fall in love. 

…

Stretching as he yawned. Tim winced, and touched the bandage wrapped around his arm, high up near the shoulder. It was a stab wound from a couple of nights ago. It was healing well. But it still smarted when he moved his arm wrong. 

“Don’t poke at it.” Clark said as he was passing Tim in the corridor. “You might rip the stitches.”

Clark was Bruce’s husband, and the other parent of one of Bruce’s biological sons. Technically, Clark was parent to all of Bruce’s children, biological and adopted (that was part of the deal when two people get married). But Tim, personally, did not see Clark as his parent. Partially because back when Tim became a Robin, he still had at least one of his own parents living and present in his life. Partially because Clark might be married to Bruce, but he did not patriciate in Gotham or Bat-related cases. Clark was his own costumed hero, and operated within his own city. Wayne Manor just happened to be where he hung up his cape at the end of the day. 

He was not wearing his cape at the moment. As he passed Tim in the hall, Clark seemed to be halfway through dressing for a public appearance with Bruce Wayne. He was wearing neat and freshly pressed suit pants, but only an undershirt and mismatched socks, and no glasses. No glasses on his face meant he was not going out as Clark Kent-Wayne. 

He was also carrying a pair of noise cancelling headphones. 

“What are you up to?” Tim asked. 

Clark gave a little half-smile that was really more of a cringe of sympathy. “Jon’s super-hearing is coming in and he’s not feeling well.”

“Ah.” Tim shifted his weight from one foot to the other. 

Super-hearing. Academically, Tim did understand Clark’s –and Jon’s- powers. But he understood them as an ally and teammate. He understood them as an outsider. He knew that Clark had inhuman hearing. He once said he could be sitting in a Wayne Manor sitting room, and listening to a cricket in Singapore. Tim didn’t know how true that was. Clark wasn’t really the type to exaggerate his stories –most of the time he didn’t have to, his adventures as Superman were absurd enough as they were- but Tim also knew that adults liked to embellish their tales when talking to younger people. Even so, Tim could only imagine what it must be like to be 10 years old and suddenly able to hear every sound and vibration, not only in the house, but in the surrounding woods, nearby highway, and city outskirts, possibly even things beyond. 

More out of curiosity than any idea that he could possibly help with developing kryptonian powers, Tim followed Clark into Jon’s room. 

Jon was curled up on his bed. The blankets drawn up over his head, and a pillow covering his ears. 

Clark sat down at the edge of the bed and slid the noise cancelling headphones under the pillow.

Tim hung in the doorway. But moved aside when Bruce came up behind him. He moved out of the way so that the older man could go in and be with his husband and son. 

“How’s he feeling?” Bruce asked. 

He, unlike Clark, was dressed and ready for an evening out in the public as Bruce Wayne. Black tux, a black so dark it was ebony. Italian cut so it hugged his figure, red silk lining that showed provocatively when he unbuttoned it to sit, and a black tie. Hair gelled back and out of his face. Foundation and concealer caked on so that no one could see the bruises left by a fight in the Narrows just earlier that morning before the sun came up. 

Bruce’s question was met with a whimper from under the pillow. 

Not looking up at his husband, Clark rubbed circles into Jon’s back over the blanket. “Would you mind if I didn’t go tonight?” He asked. “I wanna stay home with Jon.”

“That’s fine.” Bruce nodded, and immediately unfastened his cufflinks. He didn’t want to go to whatever public appearance they were getting ready for anyway. What Bruce really wanted to do was strip out of his fancy Rich Boy Wayne suit, go downstairs to the Cave, and change into an entirely different suit, and spend his night with an entirely different kind of crowd. “Our children always have priority. We won’t go.”

“Yeah, besides, a high-profile charity event in Metropolis, you know Luthor will be there with the other alien brat.”

Tim jumped. 

Damian was so quiet, he didn’t even hear the boy sneak up behind him. They really taught them well in the League of Shadows. Even at the age of twelve, Damian was absurdly competent when it came to stealth. 

Clark’s face fell. Expression a tortured mingling of loss and guilt. Jon wasn’t Clark’s first child. He had one before. With Luthor. Clark wanted to take Kon-El with him when he left. But Luthor refused to let Clark take him. It was a term of their divorce. If Clark wanted Luthor to let him go, and still keep his secret identity as Superman (and the new knowledge of Batman’s secret identity as well), then he had to leave Kon-El with Luthor. Clark bought the happy and mostly stable life he currently enjoyed with Bruce, at the cost of losing his first child. 

Bruce turned an irritated eye on his other biological child. 

Damian was twelve. Two years older than Jon. But he only came to join the family recently. Within the past year, actually. Before that, Bruce did not even know about him. Before that, Damian was being raised by his mother, Talia Al Ghoul and the League of Shadows. Damian was unsure of his position within the Wayne household, and he saw his younger brother Jon, and step-father Clark as rivals in some capacity. 

“Out.” Bruce barked at him. “You too, Tim. Everyone who isn’t kryptonian, out.”

Bruce pushed his way through the door, and since he was wider than tiny little pre-teen Damian, and lithe and narrow Tim, they got pushed out with him. 

In the hallway, Bruce tugged on his tie until it was loose enough to lift over his head. He stuffed it in a pocket with his already discarded cufflinks. “Tim, I’ve already paid for tonight. Will you go and represent Wayne Industries?”

“Who’s gonna patrol with you tonight if I’m rubbing elbows at a charity event?” He asked. 

Bruce was now in the process of shrugging off the tuxedo jacket. “Damian will-“ Damian’s face lit up like Bruce had just given him an early birthday present “-if he can behave himself.”

Tim nodded. He was dismissed from being Red Robin for the night. Probably for the best too. Give the stab wound on his arm more time to heal before he jumped back into the fray. A night out where he would be served champaign and people wouldn’t think to card him because of the context did sound nice. And if Kon-El –Conner Luthor- happened to be there with Lex, Tim could use some of his own stealth skills to get some candid photos of Kon-El for Clark. That was about the only kind of relationship he was able to have with his eldest child. Through photos surreptitiously taken without the boy’s knowledge or consent. They had a pretty sizable file on the Bat computer that was almost nothing but surveillance photos and footage of Conner Kon-El Luthor. 

Tim had never met Kon-El in person, but he felt like he already knew him quite well through all the surveillance Bruce collected on him over the years. 

He left to go change into his tux. 

With any luck, he would actually meet the infamous Kon-El he’d heard so much about. 

…

“I hate it when you drag me to these things.” Conner groaned as he tugged on his time to loosen it, giving his suit an overall rakish ‘lovable scoundrel’ look. But, more importantly, making Conner feel ever-so-slightly more comfortable in the absurdly uncomfortable formal wear. 

“It’s important that we’re seen as caring and philanthropic, we want the media to portray us in a positive light.” His father reminded him at his son’s side. Lex was the picture of perfect. His posture, the cut of his suit, the tightness of his tie, even the shine on his bald head. He was a picture of perfection. “That’s why we’re here at this benefit for…” 

He trailed off, realizing he had forgotten what bleeding heart and noble cause they were supposed to be supporting here. Clark was the real bleeding heart in the family. He was the one that really cared about these things. He always knew what Lex was donating to and could remind Lex what it was the media was supposed to believe he cared about that month. But- Clark wasn’t in the family anymore, and now Lex didn’t have anyone to remind him of the causes he pretended to care about. 

Conner glanced around them at the posters and banners that had been suspended from the venue’s ceiling, the lights from the chandeliers causing a glare on the vinyl that would make them hard to read for anyone who wasn’t kryptonian. “Rice.” Conner informed his father. “For starving children in Africa. They don’t say which country in Africa.”

Lex gave a wordless scoff. He had opinions about organizations that took money saying it was for a good cause, but did not give very clear specifics as to what the cause was. ‘Feeding starving children, indeed.’ Hmph! 

But the purpose of tonight was not actually to do good in the world. The purpose of tonight was to be seem. To be seen at a charity. To be seen ‘giving back to the community’. To appear philanthropic and caring. Good PR. That was the point of this farce. That’s all charity donations and public appearances were to Lex. A public relations farce. 

Conner cast a glare around the room, noting that the vast majority of people appeared to already be paired off. Good. That meant the chances of accidentally have a soulmate meeting were reduced. He sighed and allowed himself to relax a bit. “In that case, I’m going to take a walk around and be seen.”

He stepped away from his father. 

Lex also cast a glare around the room. Looking for someone specific. His interactions with Clark were hardly ever civil anymore. Now, when they saw each other, it was usually over the broken and sizzling remains of one of Lex Corp’s new weapons. Or during a heated and scandalous altercation between himself and Bruce Wayne (as if he could take Batman in a fight, ha!). Neither was a particularly positive context. But, still, they were the only times Lex ever got to see his mate… 

Clark did not appear to be in attendance. 

At least, Lex did not see his talk, awkward bulk stumbling through the crowd and apologizing to everyone like the cultureless country bumpkin that he was. Lex used to be so embarrassed by Clark when he did that. Now Lex missed it, and missed it more than he ever thought he could. 

Feeling disappointed and like he had been robbed of the opportunity to make a public spectacle of himself, Lex grabbed two flutes of champaign off a passing server’s tray and downed them each in one gulp. If he couldn’t get into a fight with Bruce over Clark, he could at least get black-out drunk on someone else’s dime. 

Conner was making a round of the room. Smiling and greeting the people knew recognized, and allowing himself to be introduced to and shake hands with the people he didn’t know. 

In truth, Conner hated being introduced to new people. Not just because he was terrified that any new person he met might turn out to be his soulmate. But also, he just didn’t like touching people or being touched. The therapist his father made him see semi-regularly said it was because his other parent left him at such a young age, it gave him intimacy issues. Conner thought this was absurd psychobabble and the real reason was because he had a stronger tactile perception than anyone else. 

But he suppressed the urge to cringe, bared his teeth in a smile, and got through every new introduction with the exact same level of polite aloofness his father had when having to be nice to people he did not like. 

He was on his third round of introductions when he noticed something. Just out of the corner of his eyes. He probably only caught it because of his enhanced vision and other sense. Just the minor glint of the chandelier lights reflecting off the glass lens of a phone camera. But when he looked, all he saw was a guy around his own age, with his back to Conner, talking to someone else, his hand in his pocket, and no phone in sight. 

Narrowing his eyes, Conner studied him, thinking he looked familiar. He wasn’t anyone from Metropolis. Conner ended up going to school with most of the rich or important kids in Metropolis. Which meant he had to be from out of town. Then it hit him. That was one of Bruce Wayne’s brood. The exact name escaped him at the moment, but Dad kept dossiers of all of Bruce Wayne’s henchmen and associates. Even since Clark left them for Bruce. And that was definitely one of them. That was one of the Robins. A Robin was stalking him! 

Tim liked to think he was an expert at surveillance and photography. Especially photography. Photo surveillance. When he was still just a small boy, not even in his teens yet, he managed to follow Batman and the Robin of the time (Dick Grayson) around town, snapping pictures of them. He was good at tailing people. He was good at taking pictures. And he was good at not getting caught. When Tim returned to the manor later that night, he would have a whole gallery of new photos to present to Clark. 

He would spot Kon-El across the room, lift his phone out of his pocket. Angle it just right. Zoom. Click. Then slip the device back into his pocket without anyone noticing. Keeping the phone low was less conspicuous. But, for better shots, he would take it all the way out, stand against a nice background like the ice sculpture, or the decorative wallpaper, and pretend to be taking a selfie. A person would have to be standing directly behind him and actually see the screen to realize that it was not in selfie mode and he was, in fact, taking candid shots of the other boy across the room. 

The vast majority of the images were in profile, or three quarter view. A few with just his back, Tim deleted those, Clark would want to see his son’s face. None were of Kon-El actually looking at the camera. 

Tim got a good system down too. 

Take a snapshot, then pocket the phone again and move through the crowd. Always stay in the peripheral of Kon-El’s vision. Kryptonian’s had excellent vision, not just their supervisions, but their regular visions too. But Tim lived with a kryptonian. He knew where the borders of the peripheral were and how to stay just this side of the blind spots. 

He raised his phone again. This would be a good shot of Kon-El, laughing at something someone else said. Clark didn’t have many pictures of him smiling. Even Tim had to admit Kon-El had an amazing smile. He was amazingly handsome when he smiled. 

Then Kon-El turned and was fulling facing the camera. 

Then he was gone from the frame. 

Just gone. 

Tim looked up. Searching the crowd to see where he went. But he didn’t see Kon-El moving through the crowd. 

He saw Lex. Across the room. His cheeks red, eyes heavy, looking board having to listen to whatever the person talking to him was saying. Holding a flute of champaign in his hands. He was probably already several flutes in, if the redness in his face was any indication. 

But Tim did not see Kon-El anywhere. 

Then he felt someone’s hand close over his. Gripping the hand that was holding his phone and squeezing tighter than they needed to. Squeezing tighter, in fact, than an average person should have been able to. 

Tim hissed when he felt his fingers squished between the hard phone case and the metaphorical steel of the other person’s hand. He spun around. 

…and came face to face with Kon-El –Conner Luthor. 

“Oh!” Fuck! Tim had messed up. He looked up at the other man, Kon-El was taller than he expected. Tim flashed one of his most dazling smiles, hoping to charm the demi-kryptonian. “Hi. We’ve never met, but I’m-“

But his smile faltered the moment their eyes met. 

Something passed between them. 

It was like the bottom had suddenly fallen out of his stomach and the only thing keeping him from falling after it, was the critical stare of the demi-kryptonian glaring down at him. 

Except Kon-El wasn’t glaring at him anymore. 

He felt it too. Tim knew he felt it. He _felt_ that he felt it. 

Like they were connected somehow. Meant to meet. Something ephemeral and indistinct passed between them. Passed through them. Tying them together. Not a physical connection but a spiritual one. 

“-I’m your soulmate.” Tim finally finished. Not the statement he was originally gonna make, but a much, much truer one. Kon-El was his soulmate. 

Kon-El did not look pleased by this discovery. In fact, he looked a little sick. He let go of Tim’s hand and took a step back, putting some physical distance between them. Almost as if he were trying to pull away from their spiritual connection. One hand going to his face in horror. 

“Fuck!” He muttered from behind him hand. “Fuck!”

Then he was gone. 

Again. 

Moving too fast for the naked eye to see. 

He was on the other side of the room, pulling on Lex’s arm. Trying to get his father to follow him so they could leave. Tim read his lips from across the crowd. They were going home. He did not tell Lex that he found his soulmate. But he did say that he wished they never came to this stupid event. 

Kon only looked back in Tim’s direction once, as he was trying to herd his drunk father out of the venue. But their eyes met again. 

“Kon-?“ Tim began, speaking at a normal volume because he knew the demi-kryptonian could hear him. 

But Kon-El looked away the moment the first syllable of his name was even uttered. 

Tim was left feeling confused and oddly incomplete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another fic that will be continued some time after Tim/Kon Week is over.


	2. Morning Brings No Clarity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two and half months is "some time after Tim/Kon Week".

As Tim was leaving the venue, he felt like he was forgetting something. 

The valet was just pulling his car up for him, when Tim went dashing back inside thinking he’d left something behind. 

But he never brought anything in with him. Nothing except his wallet, keys, cell phone, and a smaller more easily concealed version of his utility belt. All of which were accounted for and never even left his person at any point during the night. Not even his phone, which had been almost crushed –along with his hand- when Kon-El grabbed him. 

Then, remembering Kon-El, Tim realized it was not a thing he was missing. It was a person. It was his soulmate. He was not leaving with his soulmate, and that was why he felt like he was forgetting something. 

…

Conner was absolutely panicked when he returned to the penthouse. 

In all honesty, he was panicked though the whole drive home. He was panicked when they left the venue. Conner had been panicking from the moment he locked eyes with… fuck! His damn name! Conner didn’t even know his own soulmate’s name! The Robin. He’d been panicking ever since he locked eyes with the Robin and realized that one of Bruce Wayne’s Robins was his soulmate. 

He was panicking for more than one reason too. 

Conner never wanted to meet his soulmate. He never wanted to be put in a position like his father. To be tied to another person. Tied beyond the physical connection of lovemaking, and the legal connection of marriage. Tied by the very spirit of Self that is You. And then, have that connection be violently severed. Pulled, and strained until the thread broke and you broke with it. Conner had always feared that. From the moment Pa- Clark!- from the moment Clark left, Conner feared that. 

But to learn that his soulmate was a Robin. Was one of Batman’s Robins. Was one of Bruce Wayne’s wards… It was like Bruce Wayne was taking more from his family. 

If his soulmate had been anyone else- literally, any other person on the planet, or worlds beyond- Conner was sure he could have gone to his father for help, or advice, or if not a plan then at the very least a sympathetic ear. Lex was smart. Lex had managed to manipulate a Coluan scientist, and they were supposed to be a whole race of geniuses. Lex would know what to do. Dad always knew what to do!

But how could Conner tell his father, whom had already lost one person he loved to Bruce Wayne, that his soulmate was Bruce Wayne’s ward?

Conner couldn’t. 

He couldn’t tell Lex. 

He just had to figure this shit out on his own. 

Conner carried his father –whom was drunk and fell asleep in the car- to his bed. Took the older man’s shoes off. Then left him there, still wearing the same suit he worse to the event. 

Then Conner all but flew into his father’s office. 

Lex kept dossiers on all the Batman’s henchmen and associates. If his soulmate really was a Robin –and Conner was sure he was, he remembered seeing his face in these files before- then Dad would have information on him. 

Usually, when Conner studied the dossiers, it was only ever just Clark Kent-Wayne, Bruce Wayne, or Jonathan Kent-Wayne (the younger half-brother that Conner had never met). But this time, Conner was scanning through every file but those. Alfred Pennyworth was the old butler, so it wasn’t him. Neither was it Richard Grayson. Or Jason Todd. Thank gosh it wasn’t Damian Wayne, his file showed that he was a literal child, not even in his teens yet! That left… yes. Timothy Jackson Drake. Red Robin. His soulmate’s name was Tim Drake. 

Did he go by ‘Tim’? Or would it be ‘TJ’ for Timothy Jackson? Or, was he one of those annoying people that insisted on using his full first name and detested nicknames? Not ‘Tim’, not ‘TJ’, just ‘Timothy. Ew. No. Gross. Conner would call him Tim. It felt right. 

Correction: Conner was not going to call him anything at all, because Conner was not going to see him again. 

Ever. 

He would sever their soul-bond now. Before it had time or opportunity to really take hold and tie them closer together. 

…

The first thing Tim became aware of when he woke up was that his hand hurt. Immensely. He couldn’t remember the last time one of his outer extremities hurt so much without his blood being spilled. He raised the hand to his face and looked at the dark purple bruises that formed there. A blotchy line cutting through the fingers, just inside the knuckles, going from index finger down to his pinky. And a corresponding blotchy line going from the heel of his hand up the base of his thumb. Bruises in the outline of his cell phone. 

The second thing Tim became aware of was that something was missing. 

He pushed himself out of bed and immediately checked to make sure he still had the utility belt he wore the previous night. And his wallet and keys. And the phone with all the pictures he took of Kon-El on it. His regular utility belt, along with the complete Red Robin costume, was down in the Cave. He hadn’t even put it on last night. Nothing was missing. So why did he…?

Tim looked at his hand again. At the bruises caused by his soulmate’s kryptonian strength. His soulmate. That was the thing that was missing. 

Throwing a robe over his shoulders and slipping his cellphone in the pocket, Tim made his way downstairs. He passed through the dining room into the kitchen, opened the freezer, and pulled out the first bag of frozen vegetables that looked like it was still sealed to ice his bruised hand. 

“Is there something I can get for you, Master Tim?” Alfred asked from behind him. 

Of course, Alfred would be in the kitchen. Alfred was everywhere. Sometimes, Tim wondered if Alfred wasn’t so much a person as he was the spirit of the manor in human form. 

“Just getting some ice.” Tim assured him. 

“Those are peas, Master Tim.” Alfred informed him. 

He crossed the kitchen to one of the many, many, many first aid kits that were kept around the manor, and took out an instant cold pack. He cracked the activator and shook the packet to make sure it was evenly chilled before passing it to Tim. “I believe this will be more effective than frozen vegetables.” 

“Thanks, Alfred.” Tim accepted the cold pack and replaced the frozen peas back in the freezer where he’d found them. 

Alfred only nodded, folding his arms behind his back. “Breakfast this morning will be eggs benedict, served over potato hash, with hollandaise sauce. And it will be served in the dining room.”

That was Alfred’s way of saying ‘get out of my kitchen’. He would never be so unprofessional as to flat out order any of them out of the kitchen. But he still found ways of making it clear when he did not want a person in what he considered to be his space. The kitchen was Alfred’s. When Clark first moved in, he tried preparing his own meals but Alfred would not have it. Master’s husband doing his own cooking! While the butler just stood back and watched! Not if Alfred’s house! (And it was Alfred’s house. They might call it ‘Wayne Manor’, but it was Alfred Pennyworth that ruled here.)

Tim vacated the kitchen as fast as he could. 

He was surprised to find Jon up and out of bed. He didn’t look like he was feeling any better, he was just no longer hiding under his blankets and pillows anymore. Jon was still wearing his pajamas, his head down on the dining room table, the noise cancelling headphones covering his ears. 

Except the headphones didn’t fit quite right on him. They were sized for an adult and were loose around his child-sized head and ears. Jon hand to hold his hands over them to keep them from falling off completely. 

“Not feeling any better, huh.” Tim whispered across the table, trying to keep his voice as low as possible so as not to cause the boy more discomfort. 

“Whispering doesn’t help…” Jon bemoaned into the table. “Everything’s too loud!”

Tim pursed his lips, unsure if he should even try and offer any more sympathy. Bruce was always perfectly content to sit in companionable silence. Clark preferred to commiserate. Jon was half-Bruce and half-Clark and Tim did not know what would make him feel better. 

He thought about his soulmate. Kon-El was half-kryptonian like Jon. He seemed fine at the party last night. Surrounded by many people, packed into a crowded room together. Voices talking. Glasses clinking. Mouths slurping or chewing on the tiny food service. Ladies heels clacking. It had to be a lot of noise to someone with hearing as sensitive as a kryptonian’s. But Kon-El seemed unbothered. But he did have super-hearing. He heard Tim say his name from across the crowded room. If Kon-El had super-hearing, he had to have gone through something like this when he was Jon’s age, and he seemed fine now. 

“This won’t last forever, Jon.” He said, speaking as if he was any kind of authority on kryptonian powers beyond what he observed in a sample group of exactly two other examples. 

Jon’s only response to this was to whimper and put his head down, his hands still holding the over-sized headphones over his ears. 

“Don’t talk like you know anything, Drake.” Damian swaggered into the dining room, already dressed for the day. He punched Jon in the shoulder. “Toughen up! You’ll never cut it in this family if you’re knocked out by just a little bit of white noise.”

Jon whimpered again. 

“You should try being nicer to him.” Tim informed the other boy. 

“Why should I?” Damian shot back. 

“Because he’s your brother.” Tim supplied, as if this shouldn’t have needed to be said. Never mind the fact that he and Jason were supposed to be ‘brothers’ now too, and Jason once tried to slit his throat for ‘replacing’ him as Robin. But that was years ago. They were alright now. Could be in the same room together without any murder attempts and everything. 

Damian scoffed. “T’ch. Half-brother.”

That was when Clark came down. 

“No. Your brother.” He informed Damian. “Not just because you share a common parent’s DNA and live in the same house. You’re members of the same family. This family. You’re just as much my child as Jon is. That makes you brothers. We don’t make distinctions between blood or bond here.”

Clark really was the perfect match for Bruce. Tim was so happy for them. To be soulmates, to have found each other, to be able to be together even if there were complications and roadblocks at the beginning. They complemented each other perfectly. They really were the World’s Finest partners, not just as Superman and Batman, but domestic partners as Clark and Bruce too. 

Tim looked at the cold pack he was still holding in is bruised hand. He knew so little about his own soulmate. He hoped he and Kon-El complemented and lifted each other up as well as Clark and Bruce did. 

…

Rolling over in bed, Conner’s hand fell across his laptop’s keyboard, waking the computer from its rest mode. 

The first thing Conner saw when he opened his eyes, was the face of his soulmate. 

Seeing the face of Tim Drake staring at him, Conner jolted awake. Then his brain caught up with his eyes and recognized it as the file photo on his computer screen. Red Robin had not somehow broken into the penthouse, and was not watching him sleep. 

Yawning, Conner closed the computer and moved it to his bedside table. 

He then spent a good ten minutes staring at the wall, and wondering why he felt like something was missing from the room. 

Conner wasn’t exactly the neatest person in the world. His clothing from the previous night was strewn all over the room. His sheets were all rumpled, one pillow hanging half-out of the pillow case. He slept with his computer next to him. His bedside table had an undrunk glass of water and a small stack of books he did not intend to read. It was not a clean room. 

But there were no vacant places where items should have been but were not. There wasn’t anything missing from the room. 

So, why did he feel like there was…?

He looked back at his laptop, resting innocently on the bedside table. The laptop he fell asleep last night using to read Tim Drake’s file. His soulmate’s file. 

He found his soulmate. Or, more accurately, his soulmate found him. 

“Fuck.” He muttered, echoing his same sentiment from the previous night. The thing that was missing from the room was his soulmate. Something inside him was telling him they needed to be together, and because they weren’t, there was something wrong with his surroundings. 

Conner needed to clear his head. 

He changed out of his pajamas and put on some regular clothes. 

He poked his head inside Lex’s room to let his father know that he was going out. Lex was still wearing his suit from the previous night. He threw an arm over his eyes to block out the light when Conner opened the door. He would be nursing that hangover for a couple hours still and not going anywhere. 

Conner left. 

Out the window. 

Flying was one of Conner’s greatest pleasures. Of all the powers he got from Clark, flying was his favorite. The cool chill of the air. Even in the sticky of summer, the upper air remained cold. Strong winds buffeting him, whipping his clothing around his body. The view. Not only could Conner see the whole city, but the mountains around it, the ocean, the bay that separated Metropolis from Gotham. 

Wait. 

The bay that separated Metropolis from Gotham!

Conner stopped abruptly mid-flight. Without meaning to, or even realizing it, he was flying to Gotham. He was flying to his soulmate. That was exactly the opposite of what Conner wanted to do. 

He hovered there. Above the bay separating the two cities. Staring at the smogy haze that blanketed the other side. It looked like the sun wouldn’t even penetrate that. How did Conner’s soulmate manage to live there?

Conner didn’t know how long he hovered there. Inexplicably compelled to move forward, but willing himself not to. Eye’s trailing over the skyline, the buildings, the streets, the side walk… until they found focus on a single person. 

Dressed in full business suit, sunglasses covering his eyes, riding a skateboard down the sidewalk, on his way to the ferry. 

Tim Drake. 

Conner watched him stop right before the turn that would take him to the dock. He heard the scrape of the back of the board against the pavement as Tim broke hard. Staring out over the bay as if he himself didn’t quite understand why he was heading that way. As if he was also compelled without his conscious consent to travel whatever distance was necessary to get to his soul mate. 

Eye narrowing, Conner peered at him. The ebony hair that was neatly combed, gelled and styled back so that it looked professional, not like the feather mop he had at the party the previous night. Conner decided he liked the feathery mop better. Then he mentally shook himself, actively reminding himself that he did not like Tim’s feathery dark hair because he did not like Tim at all. He never wanted a soulmate, and he doubly never wanted his soulmate to be one of Bruce Wayne’ henchmen. 

Then Tim raised his eyes to the sky over the bay. A dark, cobalt blue, a blue of the earth, and Conner felt his breath hitch, their eyes meeting. Tim couldn’t see him from this distance, or, if he could, he would see nothing more than a speck, a dot in the sky. He wouldn’t know that their eyes connected like they did last night. The power of their connection humming between them. 

But Conner knew. 

Then Tim’s lips parted and he muttered the one name Conner hated more than Bruce Wayne’s or Clark Kent’s.

“Kon-El?”

…

Tim caught himself staring out his office window. Gazing over the waterfront view. Gazing over the bay that separated Gotham from Metropolis. 

He caught himself doing that several times over the course of the day. It was becoming impossible to get any work done. 

Sighing to himself, Tim pushed away from his desk and got up. It was close enough to lunch time. He could take an early lunch. Maybe go to the coffee shop at the end of the block instead of the one inside the building lobby. Being outside might clear his head a little. 

Skateboard in hand, he got in the elevator and headed down. 

He got odd looks, skateboarding down the street in full business suit, but that was actually part of the fun of bringing his board to work. (Also, occasionally jumping the table in the boardroom when no one else was using it.) He rolled down the street, hands in his pockets, sunglasses covering his eyes because the smog layer was actually at an all time low today and the sun could actually get through. 

Tim was halfway to the bay before he realized he passed the coffee shop six blocks ago. 

He skidded to a halt and kicked his board up under one arm, looking at the street sigh he stopped in front of. ‘This Way to Metropolis Ferry’. Without even making the conscious decision, Tim had been on his way to Metropolis. To where his soulmate lived. 

Raising his eyes, Tim looked up into the sky over the bay. Where the Gotham haze burned away to reveal the sun. Light fluffy clouds wafted on the other side against a background of blue. It was sunny, and bright, and- and there was a speck up in the sky. 

Tiny. Too small for him to make out. Hovering over the bay. Tim stood there, his skateboard under his arm, staring up at it, and he –inexplicably- got the feeling that it was staring at him too. Piercing through the smog layer of Gotham, between the buildings, and the powerlines, and the street lights, ignoring all the other people and cars out of the street, and seeing only him. Like a telescope focused on a single point. 

Telescopic vision… like a kryptonian’s. 

Jon was still at the manor, suffering the onslaught of his new hearing. Clark was either at work, half-way around the world saving lives from disasters, or else he was still at the manor as well, tending to his youngest child. It wasn’t either of them. 

That left… 

“Kon-El?” Tim breathed, voice not much more than a whisper. Muttering the name to the open street. 

There was a rush of air that kicked up enough litter from the street that Tim instinctively shielded his eyes from getting any grit in them. When he lowered his arm, Conner Luthor was standing in front of him. Glaring reproachfully, as if Tim had grievously insulted him somehow. 

“That’s not my name.” He growled. 

It was all Tim could do to blink back at him.


End file.
